The sheriff has finally betrayed you.

She's been kind, supportive, only to get on your good side. Now that she has your consent to see Henry she doesn't need you anymore. You curse yourself and wish that you'd never listened to the psychologist, that you'd followed through with your plans to get the sheriff out of your life for good.

The betrayal hurts just as much as it did the first time. Maybe even more so.

She has totally blindsided you. You didn't think she had it in her; you were actually beginning to trust. You shake your head at your own foolishness. Your chest hurts, moisture stings your eyes.

The policemen cuff you and lead you from the office. You take a deep breath and force your features into a confident, controlled expression. You keep your head high, glare at your secretary as they march you past.

You spit some words at her as shove you out the door. "This is a misunderstanding, inform the town. And call my lawyer."

You barely see her shocked nod as the door shuts behind you. Was that a smirk forming on her face? You resolve to fire her as soon as you're out of these cuffs. Fire her, and then find a way to take away everything she holds dear.

After wiping the sheriff off the face of the planet, of course.

A few minutes later you are being marched into the sheriff's station like a prisoner of war. The policemen move you along at a quick pace, your strides awkward in your tight skirt and high heels. Painfully undignified.

You stumble into the room, the officers flanking you on either side.

The shock on the sheriff's face is genuine.

She looks completely flabbergasted, her mouth hanging open in a most unattractive way. Either she's an extremely good actress, or she's not the one who called the state police. Your brain shifts rapidly, trying to process this new development. If not the sheriff, then who?

She's moving forward, taking possession of you from the male officers. Supporting you gently by the elbow. Shooting them a death glare that would almost be worthy of yourself.

The shock is finally kicking in and you feel numb. You don't know what to think, what to believe.

At the insistence of the state police, you let her lead you docilely into one of the cells. She guides you to a seated position on the small bed and bends down to look in your eyes.

"Just for a few minutes Regina, okay?" Her words are spoken softly but firmly. They're meant to be reassuring, but your stomach sinks even further.

You want to cry out. Don't leave me in here! But the words stick in your throat.

She shuts the cell behind you and locks it, tucks the key into her pocket.

Heated words fill the room, but you only catch every second or third phrase through the roaring in your ears. Kidnapping. Botched investigation. Insider tip.

Then the sheriff's voice rings out. No evidence. Full investigation. No charges.

With a start, you realize that she's still defending you. She's not the betrayer. And you wonder why.

This could be her moment. She could hand you over to state police, Henry would be hers. The mere fact that the policemen are in town suggests that the curse is already weakening. Perhaps close to breaking. This could be it.

She shoots you a frustrated look, as if you're to blame for all of this, and perhaps you are.

She draws the men to the other side of the room, talks to them in a calm voice. The officers sit, sipping coffee and eating her donuts as she walks them through the pages of her investigation. The search warrant. The lack of evidence. Kathryn's return and good health.

They take out a small electronic device and play back the anonymous phone call. The sheriff listens, head cocked, to the 'insider tip'. The voice is disguised but the accent is very familiar. Gold.

You wonder what his angle is. What does he have to gain from your removal from the town?

You snort softly to yourself. He has everything to gain, and absolutely nothing to lose. You were sloppy, and now you have to pay the price.

The sheriff must be thinking the same thing because she stares at you for a moment, a question in her eyes. You don't respond, just keep your gaze forward, your face blank. She turns back to the policemen with a frustrated sigh.

She tries to explain the politics in the town. That you're a strong mayor with big ideas and that not everyone agrees with your leadership. Then she tries for the softer side, tells them about your son and the playground you had built for the children.

The officers are looking torn. They can't release you, not until they complete this investigation. But they need more evidence. The sheriff points them to the center of town, gives vague directions to Granny's where they can find something to eat, and promises to catch up with them in a few minutes.

She watches them exit the building, grey eyes trailing after their retreating figures.

And then she's unlocking the door to your cell. She's on her knees in front of you, trying to get you to meet her eyes. You purposefully look away, stare at the dirty wall beside the bed. What more does she want from you?

Her eyes flash in frustration. And then her hands are on your knees, her grip hard. She shakes you gently but with intent.

"Regina." Your name flies from her lips, sharp and demanding.

"Regina, I need to know." She doesn't specify what she's asking about, and for a moment you tinker with the idea of being purposefully obtuse. Make her work for the answer. You slowly turn your head towards her.

You can see her pulse, beating steadily at the side of her neck. She's solid, real.

Can you trust her?

After a moment you close your eyes and nod. "Yes." It comes out as a whisper.

Your eyes open again and bore into the sheriff's. "Yes," you say again, and this time the word is firm. "I had Kathryn kidnapped."

"Why?" The question is more curious than anything else.

"To frame Miss Blanchard."

The sheriff blinks rapidly several times. You can see her brain working, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. Mary Margaret Blanchard is her roommate. Her friend. And so much more that she isn't even aware of.

"Why?" she finally asks again.

"It's a long story." You laugh weakly.

"Damn it, Regina," she sighs. There is disappointment in her voice, bitterness.

Your eyes drop to her hands on your knees. You should be used to disappointing people by now, but somehow you can't stop the hurt from rising in your chest.

You stare hard at her hands. Her nails are unpolished, her fingers strong and lean. You remember the feel of her hands on your bare skin. How they had caressed you, worshiped you. Grabbed you and held you close.

Those hands tighten their grip, fingers digging painfully into your flesh. You find that you welcome the discomfort. It's real. Grounding.

When she speaks next her words are drawn out, careful and slow. "Are you going to do it again?"

Your eyes fly sharply to hers. This is the real question, you realize. And she's not asking about kidnapping Kathryn. The question she's asking is much larger. She wants to know about your power plays, your games. Your need to win.

You remember your half-finished plans to incriminate the sheriff. To destroy her life in order to protect your own.

The thoughts must show in your eyes because she nods darkly and releases her grip on your legs. She starts to stand, to turn away, and you find yourself reaching out desperately, grabbing her wrist and holding her in place.

"No!" The word comes out in a desperate whisper. At first you think you're telling her not to go, not to leave you to your fate.

But then you realize that it's her answer, and you feel a kind of peace settle into your chest as you speak the word aloud again.

"No. I'm done with that. No more games." You inject your words with all the sincerity you can muster.

She's still suspicious, and you can't blame her. Why should she take your word for this? Logically this is just another of those games.

She asks the question again, sounding a little like your son when he was three years old and trying to figure out the world around him. "Why?"

The words that flow from your mouth are true, probably the truest thing you've said since losing Daniel. "Because of Henry. Because of my son."

The words land gently, honestly. Her eyes soften. She extracts her wrist from your grip and replaces it with her fingers, gently taking your hand.

"Okay." The word is simple. Accepting.

And then, "We'll get you out of this."

Is it really that easy?

Something in her eyes changes and her grip tightens, white knuckles squeezing your fingers. You jump at the sudden pressure. Perhaps it's not that easy.

"But Regina," her face is cold. "No more. This is the end of it, do you hear me?"

You sigh. Defeated, and yet not. There is only one answer. You nod, giving your promise.

She peers into your eyes a few moments longer, judging your sincerity. She must find what she's looking for because she makes a small grunt in the back of her throat and lets go of your hands. She stands up, towering tall above you.

"I'll be back."

The words echo over her shoulder as she exits the cell and locks it behind her. And then she's gone.